


Moving Forward

by green_spear_of_causality88



Series: The Multiverse Is A Wide And Lonely Place [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Absolute fluff, Alternate Universe - Crosstale | XTale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Dreamtale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Dusttale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Errortale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Horrortale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Inktale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Killertale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Reapertale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Fluff, Reaper bro you aren't a part of Nightmare's gang why are you here-, Shenanigans, The Star Sanses are coming...wayyy later, Wholesomeness, and Blue's trying his best, and Dream is Done, and sadness, as of chapter one it's just you and nightmare hanging out and being pals, at this point nightmare tolerates you, btw this is gender neutral reader, but healing as well, but it'll change overtime, but this is mostly slice of life, gender neutral reader, giving nightmare's gang a break and wholesome moments, he could honestly have less to do with you atm, i'll add the tags i so desperately want to add for the others once they make an appearance, if almost dying counts as being pals, just know that Ink will be Ink, nightmare's a wary boi but he'll warm up sometime, no ships here only wholesome healing and overall moments, okay maybe some angst too, reaper appears!, right? right??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27864182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_spear_of_causality88/pseuds/green_spear_of_causality88
Summary: The impossible has become possible.You didn't know what you were expecting, but finding a near-dead skeleton monster in the woods that make up your backyard certainly wasn't on the list. Soon enough, you end up housing the rest of his "acquaintances", learning each other's boundaries (worries, fears) while co-existing. The more time you spend with them, the more you realize...Your KINDness may end up being your downfall one day....But hey, as the saying goes: "if you fall, there will be those who never fail to pick you up."
Series: The Multiverse Is A Wide And Lonely Place [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081001
Comments: 31
Kudos: 124





	1. Your Worst Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> Is this me ignoring my other stories?
> 
> Uhhhhh-
> 
> You can't prove anything-
> 
> Anyways, welcome to my first fic for this fandom! I'll be putting the Chapter Summaries here in the notes before the chapter starts, as well as any trigger warnings! I'm excited to go on this journey with you all, and I hope you enjoy the first chapter!
> 
> Chapter Summary: You find a goopy boi in the woods. You’re too KINDhearted to turn him away.

_This is a horrible, terrible, “can-go-wrong-in-so-many-ways”_ **_bad_ ** _idea,_ you think to yourself as you barely manage to avoid tripping on a root. The “cargo” on your back shifts ever so slightly, letting out a low grumble before falling silent. You pause to adjust your hold, double-checking to make sure they’re properly secured before moving forward.

_Well, my day could’ve turned out worse, I guess._

It certainly started off on a funny note. You apparently slept through your alarm, finding it resting in a pitiful lump on the floor to your side once you all but fell out of your bed. A quick, panic-filled check of your phone showed that yes, you had slept half an hour past your alarm, and _yes:_

You only had ten minutes before work started.

You yelled as you did a speedrun of your normal routine, only stopping for breath before starting up again. Since it was just you, your house, and the 25 acres of land that you inherited (the woods were a limited offer in the deal!), you could be as loud as you want. You practically scarfed down a bagel and a leftover pancake from dinner (you.. _really_ liked having breakfast for dinner) before flying out the door.

The drive into town took nearly half an hour, but with your awesome driving skills (that... _may_ or may not have broken the speed limit) it only took twenty. You parked in a rush, nearly having a heart attack when you almost backed into a car pulling out of the lot. You stopped long enough to give the (now irritated) driver a sheepish smile before running into the florist shop.

“How late am I today?!” You blurted out before your coworker, a bunny who goes by BB, could greet you.

BB chuckled, used to your frantic energy. “You’re actually right on time. We’re expecting an influx of customers today, so I hope you’re ready.”

You sighed in relief, stepping around the cash register and making for the break room to set your things down. “I’m ready as I’ll ever be!”

And you were. Today was the first day of many where the sun shed warmth on the cozy town of Maison, the seasonal flowers blooming solidifying the transition into spring. You and BB helped your customers with quiet voices and gentle smiles, enjoying the way a customer’s face lit up in joy and gratitude as you crafted bouquets for them. Before you knew it closing time was upon you, BB waving you off with a tired but satisfied smile as he locked up.

You sent him your own tired smile as you left the parking area, giving him a wave in the rearview mirror before heading on your way. Since you weren’t in a rush this time, you could enjoy the calm atmosphere that seemed to permanently hover over the town. The sunset on the horizon amplified the feeling, lighting up the town and it’s residents in a warm, golden glow.

Sunsets always had that kind of effect on you, for some reason. While you relished in them, there was always a pang of melancholy that followed. You couldn’t figure out where the feeling stemmed from, but then again…

_Did you really want to know?_

Nonetheless, the lax effect the setting sun has on you is exactly why you had a damn-near heart attack when you found a form slumped against a tree during one of your walks through the woods after work, their breathing ragged as they curled in on themself. You shook yourself out of your stupor, rushing over to inspect them-

...which was hard, considering that they were goopifying the ground around them.

You had hesitated, eyeing the substance warily. You hadn’t seen anything like it and you weren’t sure if it was poisonous for humans, but a rattling wheeze from the injured being had you saying _“fuck it”_ before you gathered them into your arms. It helped that they were surprisingly light, repositioning them onto your back in a sloppy piggyback ride before you took off for home...

...Leading to now.

“Let’s get you fixed up, alright? So hang in there for me...we’re almost there. You’re doing great, keep holding on,” you murmur to the being, quickening your pace while making sure to not jostle them too much. To be honest, you’re not sure if you’re reassuring them or yourself; with them leaning against you, you can feel the weak beating of their soul beneath the goop.

_Stars, if I hadn’t found them today, then-_

You didn’t let yourself finish that line of thought. Instead you fumble for your keys, sliding them into the lock with as much grace as a totally- _not_ -panicking person with an injured monster on their back could have. You swing the door open, not bothering to close it as you gently set the monster down onto your couch (aw, there goes those throw blankets, fallen soldiers to The Goop™) before sprinting to get your first aid.

Once you come back, you pause. _Wait...monsters heal differently than humans, all they need to do is eat magic food, right?_ If you remember right, then you weren’t a total pig who ate the entire box of Nice Cream BB gifted you a couple days ago.

You run into the kitchen, throwing open your fridge with a triumphant yell. Sure enough, at the top where the freezer resides are the angelic desserts you now hoard covet. You grab two of the remaining four, nearly tripping and bashing into the coffee table on your way over to the injured monster.

“Hey, I got some monster food for you.” You quietly say, knowing that you’re talking to yourself at this point. The other was unconscious when you found them, and they sure as hell were unconscious now. Nonetheless you stop in front of the couch, pushing the coffee table out of the way with your foot as you unwrap the treat. “It’s some Nice Cream. No one can say no to Nice Cream, right?”

You bend over, propping their head up with your hand as you bring the frozen dessert up to where you guess their mouth is.

You pause. Now that you have a proper look at them, you realize that they’re a skeleton monster, even if it was a bit hard to tell underneath their...liquid-y exterior. You remember BB telling you about them, but you aren’t sure if he covered the specifics on their diet. How the hell did they digest food? Do they have to chew, or-?

Fortune seems to take pity on you, because once the treat made contact with their mouth, it began to dissolve. You internally cheer, knowing that the last thing an injured person needs is loud noises right next to their ear (cranium? Skull? Earholes??).

Your cheering dies down, however, when you notice that they don’t seem to be getting better.

“H...Hey…” You say shakily, your usual smile wobbling a bit as the monster lets out a wet, soul-wrenching cough. “I know it’s not a five-star monster meal, but a close friend of mine told me that this nearly maxes out your HP.”

The first bar disappears, completely ingested by the wounded skeleton. You hastily press the next bar against their mouth, your stomach dropping as you see no signs of improvement despite the bar being halfway gone. “C’mon, you can’t die on me here! Not like this…”

 _Not when I can finally_ **_do something…!_ **

The skeleton curls in on themself, shivering. Their coughing gets worse, and you see something red dribble down their mouth.

Tears gather in the corner of your eyes. Someone was...was _dying_ right in front of you, and what are you?! _Useless, that’s what._

You couldn’t handle an innocent being dying in front of you. You could handle many things, but _this…_

_It’s too much._

The tears spill forth as you grasp their (sticky, wet, _goopy_ ) hand, the remaining Nice Cream slipping from your grasp and falling to the floor. You can’t bring yourself to care for the mess it made as you begin to shake, knowing that the most you can do at this point is be there for them in their final moments.

Once you settle onto your knees in front of your couch, you cry. You cry about the loss of another living being, about the injustice of this, about the utter _irony_ of it all.

About the loss of a life taken when they’ve barely begun to live it.

**“...More…”**

You still. The voice is low, dim, but it’s _there_ and...wait, you weren’t imagining things were you? You have to make sure. You whip your gaze up as you feel the hand in your grasp squeeze, their grip quickly becoming painful.

Your stare is met with a single teal eyelight, zeroed in on you with unnerving intensity. **“Your grief...I need** **_more.”_ **

…

_What?_


	2. Unhappy Camper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goop boi wakes up. You make dinner. Admittedly, things could’ve gone better; at least he’s recovering, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings for this chapter! Nightmare's just a bit stand-offish, is all. I hope you enjoy Chapter 2 of Moving Forward!

There’s only a handful of times you can say that you’ve been utterly and thoroughly caught by surprise.

Unfortunately, the injured monster in your care marks yet another.

“...Uh.” you begin as you stand in the entryway between your kitchen and the living room, holding the remaining two Nice Cream bars in your hands.

The skeleton on your couch shifts. **“What?”** He (at least, you _guessed_ they were male by their deep voice that sounds like it belongs in Lord of the Bracelets, but you were raised to not assume and they don’t seem like they want to indulge in your curious nature anytime soon) growls.

You shift one bar to your other hand as you raise the first in a placating manner. “Just wondering if you want something to eat. Y’know, to get your HP back and all.”

He stares at you with the same intensity he had when he woke up. You look away after a couple beats pass, nervously grinning as two beads of sweat roll down your cheek. You hear a rustle seconds later, the goopy skeleton answering with a grumble. Now, you weren’t an expert on off-standish skeletons, but he sounds...satisfied? _Why the hell would he be satisfied? He almost_ **_died!_ **

**“...As long as it isn’t poisoned.”**

You shrug. “I mean, I’ll be eating too. It’d be weird if I poisoned myself with my own food, but to each their own I guess.”

He shoots you an indiscernible look before returning his attention to the TV. Taking that as a signal that he’s finished with conversing for the time being, you head into the kitchen.

“Dinner will be ready in a couple of hours, so if you want something light to snack on until then just let me know!” You call out to your unexpected guest.

A beat. Then, **“I’ll keep it in mind, human.”**

You sigh. You weren’t sure how you were expecting your day to go, but an end like this certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. You certainly weren’t expecting a skeleton monster who somehow manages to twist your words so that it looks like _he’s_ the one in control, but you weren’t gonna call him out on it; stars knows that he’s dealt with enough, recently.

Speaking of “enough”...

You poke your head into the living room, the ingredients already on the counter. “Are you gonna tell me what happened to you? If someone hurt you, then-”

 **“No.”** He cuts you off, curt and to the point.

You pause. Then, hesitantly, “... _Will_ you ever tell me what happened to you?”

You freeze when the air grows heavy. You can’t tell what, but _something_ crackles beneath the surface as he turns his teal eyelight towards you. You feel like you’ve stepped on a landmine, and if you don’t choose your next words carefully then your pride isn’t the only thing you’ll be losing.

He narrows his eye socket, words drawn taut in a sneer. **“I don’t owe you an explanation, much less do I need to defend myself from the likes of you.”**

You fiddle with the drawstrings of your hoodie. “Y-Yeah, I get it. I mean, I didn’t mean that you have to defend yourself! It’s just that-...if someone did this to you, then I can inform the sheriff so they can keep an eye out and arrest the ones who attacked you-”

Unbeknownst to you, the skeleton monster’s eye widens for a fraction of a second before his initial scowl settles back in. His tone is neutral, careful. **“Don’t bother. It will just be a waste of your time, searching for those who don’t exist.”**

You furrow your brows at him, but don’t push any further. Pressing the matter would be an invasion of privacy, and he’s given you enough information to satisfy your inquisitive mind...for now.

“This’ll be the last time I bother you before dinner, I promise. I just want to know your name, if you’re comfortable sharing?”

The skeleton actually pauses. Then, with a smirk that curls at the edges, he croons. **“Nightmare.”**

You blink. _Nightmare’s a unique name...it’s pretty cool, to be honest._

 **“...What?”** You jump at the skeleton’s - _Nightmare’s_ \- voice, the monster disregarding the TV entirely to stare at you in surprise.

You cringe. Did you...actually say that out loud? “Sorry, it slipped out. But yeah; it’s a cool name. Something only you can pull off, I feel like. Freddy Kreuger could never.”

Silence. Nightmare keeps staring at you, his surprise morphing into something else. You didn’t notice his new expression, too busy mentally berating yourself for your lack of filter. What kind of host are you, throwing out your thoughts when it’s obvious that your guest doesn’t want to talk? He even _said_ he doesn’t want to, yet here you are!

“Let me, just,” you start awkwardly, retreating into the kitchen, “get started on dinner.”

You bring the ingredients together, missing the low rumble of...something _close_ to amusement Nightmare lets out in response as he turns back to the TV.

You end up stashing the Nice Cream in the freezer for later.

* * *

Two hours fly by once you put on music to cook to, wanting to hum but feeling all-too aware of the other presence in your house. By the time you muster up the courage to say _“fuck it, I’m gonna hum whether he likes it or not”_ , the oven is beeping and you’re pulling out the dish.

You pop into the living room, searching for Nightmare. Sure enough he’s there, in the same position you last saw him in a couple hours ago. The TV is playing some show you’ve never heard of ( _what the_ **_fuck_ ** _is an Undernovela_ ), and the skeleton is watching with an expression that looks...dare you say _troubled?_

You go to speak, but he beats you to the punch. His tone gives away the scowl of disdain that is most certainly resting on his face right now. **“I take it you’re finally done preparing your human dish.”**

Your eyes widen. _How did he do that?!_ He didn’t even turn around, for heaven’s sake!

Regardless, that’s...a pretty cool skill to have. You briefly wonder if he’d be willing to teach you before remembering: _ah, yes, I literally just met him a few hours ago and he isn’t the friendliest of people. Also, he might have a thing against humans??_ Considering the history of monsters, though, you couldn’t blame him, though it sparked some indignation at being judged for the actions of those long before you. You were your own person, damnit! Not everyone acts the same!

But that’s a topic you can chew over later, for the hundredth time. The time now is dinner time, and you have a guest to attend to. You nod, completely forgetting that he can’t see you. “Yeah, it’s cooling on the counter. It’ll be ready to eat in ten minutes, but if you’re not bothered by scalding heat, then I guess you can eat it now.”

Nightmare shifts as if he’s making to stand up, but freezes. A low hiss escapes him as he forces himself to relax once more, settling in against the couch. **“I take it you’re going to be eating in here as well.”**

It wasn’t a question. Look, you may be a dumbass, but you’re not _that_ much of a dumbass. You saw how Nightmare’s body refused to cooperate with him; he just wants you nearby to grab his plate for him.

You give him a smile of reassurance. “Yep. I like watching TV as I eat; it helps me fully unwind. Oh shoot, let me set up!”

A teal eyelight watches you as you work around the couch, pushing the coffee table back to its original position before heading into the kitchen. Seconds later you come back out, balancing his and your serving in each hand.

You set down Nightmare’s first, the fork clinking against the plate. “Bon appetit!”

He sends you a look of disinterest. **“Another being who thinks they’re a comedian, I see.”**

You furrow your brows, confused. “Wait, what? I didn’t-” Your sentence screeches to a halt as you replay the words in your head, a chuckle escaping you as you catch on. “Well. They _do_ say that it takes a punner to recognize another.”

Nightmare hisses, but unlike the first half hour of knowing him (and wasn’t _that_ an experience, _hoo boy_ ), you’re not scared. You’re unsure as to why, but it’s a gut feeling and your gut has an 80% chance of being right, so you’re rolling with it. **“Stop this line of thought if you know what’s good for you, human.”**

“I dunno, you have to _hand_ it to me for making an accidental pun.”

**“Human.”**

“What’s up? Admiring the level of _skull_ I have for punnery?”

**_“Human.”_ **

“Pfft, you look like you’re going to-”

**_“D o n ‘ t f i n i s h t h a t s e n t e n c e .”_ **

“- _socket_ me across the jaw for that one.”

Nightmare stares. You shoot finger guns at him. He turns his skull away, closing his eye socket and taking deep breaths to calm himself. You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face at his ire; this is the most fun you’ve had with your puns in years. **“Once I regain my strength, I will personally make sure your death is slow and excruciating.”**

Instead of continuing, you immediately sober up. “Speaking of...I know you don’t want to talk about what happened, and that’s fine. I’m just going to ask about the extent of your injuries.”

He fixes his gaze forward. Shouting is coming from the TV, multiple voices speaking over each other in Spanish. **“None of which is your concern.”**

“None of m- how is it _not_ my concern?!” Nightmare doesn’t respond, keeping silent. You push forward, your voice growing quiet. “Nightmare, you almost _died_.”

Nightmare finally turns towards you, the corners of his mouth curled down in contempt. **“I don’t see how that matters to you, human.”** He says, narrowing his eye socket. **“I will be leaving shortly.”**

You gesture to his, well... _everything_ with a frown. It’s hard to tell due to the goop that drips from him coupled with the careful way he carries himself, but with how he’s (subtly, it took a second) favoring his left side you can tell that he’s not at his prime. “‘Shortly’? You’re still injured! You should at least wait until you’re able to walk on your own before you go.”

 **“You underestimate me.”** Nightmare sneers. **“I heal faster than the average monster.”**

“Underestimated or not, you’re hurt.” You pause. “At least let me _help_ you; it’s the least I can do, seeing as I carried you here.”

**“...”**

Nightmare keeps his mouth shut. You sigh, glancing down at your cooling dinner. “...How come the Nice Cream didn’t work, by the way? You said something about grief, if I remember right.”

 **“I don’t...** **_heal,_ ** **the same way others do.”** He stops. Reconsiders. Then, as clarification, **“...At least, in this instance. My physical injuries, yes. I am not at my prime due to an entirely different reason, however.”**

You raise your brow at him. _He doesn’t heal like other monsters do?_ You don’t know whether to be awed or concerned, so you settle for something in the middle; no matter your reaction, you have to keep an open mind about his explanation.

He reaches for his fork, yet doesn’t take a bite of your dish. He seems to mull something over before he gives a slight shrug, an action so small that you would’ve missed it if you weren’t already looking his way. **“Simply put, I feed off of negative emotions. Night terrors are especially ripe with them.”**

You blink, a small _“ohhh”_ leaving you as it clicks. “So that’s why you said you needed my grief.”

He rolls his eye, as if the answer was obvious. **“Precisely. I was unable to replenish my usual supply due to...quite a few factors, which left me in that pitiful state you saw a few hours ago.”**

You scratch your cheek, humming in thought. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

He scowls. **“Shutting up and eating your human food, first of all.”**

The mention of food has you picking up your own fork, digging in. A small _clink_ to your left a few, long seconds later lets you know that Nightmare began to eat his own serving, although he’s eyeing it as if it’ll come to life. The next fifteen minutes are spent in blissful silence between the two of you, the only constant source of sound coming from the TV. 

Once you both finish your meals you stand, gathering your plates with a smile. He pointedly looks away from you. You don’t pay it much mind; you’re too busy being happy that he seems to have enjoyed the food. “Well, just know that you can stay for as long as you need to.”

“ **It won’t be long.”** He retorts, but you don’t take the bite in his voice to heart; you’re just glad he agreed to stay until he recovered in the first place. **“** **_Especially_ ** **if you’re going to keep making jokes better suited in a casket six feet under.”**

You’re stuck between letting out a snort or a strangled laugh with how off-guard Nightmare’s words caught you, resulting in a weird _snkrt_ sound. “C’mon, they’re not _that_ bad, right?”

You can practically feel the disgust rolling off of him in waves, his voice dry. **“If I wasn’t low on magic I’d skewer you alive, human.”**

You shake your head with a grin as you head towards the kitchen, setting the plates down in the sink. _I’ll wash them later,_ you decided, intent on making sure Nightmare is as okay as he’s making himself out to be. Well, he’s making death threats so _that_ has to count for something, right?

You come to a stop once you pass the fridge. After a moment of thinking you backtrack, reaching into the freezer before clicking the door shut. “And for magic, is that connected to eating negative emotions too?”

Nightmare sighs in annoyance. _He’s probably fed up with all the questions,_ you realize. _Oh well. I’ll just ask him some more tomorrow._ **“I replenish my magic from negative emotions and from food laced with it. It’s my core that sustains itself on negativity to survive.”**

He tenses once you plop down on the other end of the couch, tapping his shoulder with the unwrapped Nice Cream bar. He takes a moment to relax himself, warily taking the frozen treat. You grin as you unwrap your own, happy that he accepted your offering. **“It’s about time I started asking questions of my own, human.”**

You raise your brow at him, the Nice Cream halfway to your mouth when he spoke. You lower it as you stare at him, a mixture of surprise and amiability on your face. “Uh...yeah, sure! Fire away, Nightmare.”

Nightmare glowers at you. **“Why take me into your home in the first place?”**

“Because you were hurt and I wanted to help you.” He stares at you, nonplussed. You shrug. “What? It’s the truth.”

His gaze travels downwards, from your eyes to something on your chest. He scowls after he’s found whatever he was looking for, stubbornly turning his head away. **“I don’t need your pity, human.”**

You go to speak, but pause. For a second you were certain it wasn’t pity, but now...you’re unsure. You could only attest to your conscious actions; who knew if you were subconsciously pitying him? “...I mean, I’m not sure if it was out of pity? I was just...scared.”

 **“...Scared.”** Nightmare repeats humorlessly. **“You were scared. Of what? Me?”**

He smirks at his words as you mull it over. How did you feel, when you found him? You certainly _do_ remember being afraid, but was it of Nightmare? _Does his presence scare you?_

You don’t hesitate as you shake your head at the silent question. “ _For_ you. I was scared for you.”

Nightmare’s smirk falls, a scowl taking its place. **“Don’t lie to me, human.”** He growls. **“I felt your fear.”**

You frown. You get that Nightmare has every reason to not trust you right now, but couldn’t he be a bit more open-minded? “I don’t see what I’d get out of lying to you. I’ll admit, you caught me by surprise in the first few minutes you were awake. What I said is true: I was scared _for_ you, Nightmare. I...I _still_ am, to be honest.”

A beat. Then, a snort. You glance over at Nightmare. The skeleton is still facing away from you so it’s hard to tell for sure, but multiple emotions flit across his face before he shoots you a look filled with disdain. You don’t feel much heat behind it. **“Of all the humans to find me, it’s a delusional one.”**

You smile.

**“...You’re making quite the disturbing face, human. What are you plotting.”**

You shake your head with a small chuckle. “Nothing, nothing. Just thinking.”

He _tchs_ in disbelief. **“A dangerous concept.”**

It’s meant to be a dig at you. It’s not meant to be nice. However, Nightmare is left bewildered as you _laugh,_ taking gasping breaths so that you don’t run out of air.

 **“...”** He blinks, fixing his gaze on the TV. **“Be quiet; I can’t hear the television.”**

“Yeah, yeah...my bad.” You wipe a tear from your eye, laughter dying down. He probably thinks you’re a madman at this point, but you’ve never been the type of person to care about appearances. “I’ll be quiet now.”

You get an answering grunt. **“I will hold you to it, human.”**

You snicker. “I promise.”

And you do. Not once did you speak up, only giving a nod or a shake of your head at Nightmare’s comments. You can tell that he’s testing you, poking at your patience, but you can see when he realizes that he’s severely underestimated it (if his figure growing rigid with each passing minute, drawing taut like a bowstring, is anything to go by). 

From then on, it’s silence as you both focus on the show. You manage to get through three episodes of Undernovela ( _seriously,_ **_what the fuck is an Undernovela_ **) before your eyes close involuntarily, drifting off into peaceful slumber.

You’ll figure out how to help him in the morning, regardless if he wants your help or not. Your injured companion is interesting, that’s for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader: Hey I want to help  
> Nightmare: No  
> Reader:  
> Nightmare:  
> Nightmare: Okay yeah
> 
> Next Chapter we see Nightmare's side of things! He's pretty talkative, for a God of Negativity...
> 
> It's a bit difficult for me to write him as a grumpy boi without making him sound TOO much like Error. I've had to delete and rewrite multiple lines because I was hit with "hey, wait, that sounds like something Error would say, not Nightmare". What do you all think of Nightmare so far? Although, I should probably wait to ask until after Chapter 3 is up, where we see his perspective. Fluff will happen soon, I promise!


	3. Through The Looking Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare's take on what happened in the past few hours, and them some. He should honestly skewer you for your stupidity and overbearing KINDness, but...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank you all for your patience on this chapter! Writing Nightmare's character became a bit of a struggle for me, which was only recently broken when I started writing Orderly Chaos and delved deeper into his perspective.
> 
> I won't keep you waiting any longer! Without further ado, I hope you enjoy Chapter 3 of Moving Forward!

For the first time in centuries, Nightmare is at a loss.

\- Well, that isn’t particularly true. Ever since he formed his little “gang”, they’ve kept him on his phalanges; it had gotten to the point that if something startling _didn’t_ happen every day he’d assume that something was very, very wrong.

Even so, this took “startling” to a different extreme.

Looking back, he knew his strength had been failing him. _They_ were starving him, safeguarding the AUs he usually preyed on. It hadn’t been noticeable until he awoke in the infirmary wing of his castle one day, five worried eyelights (the other two pairs weren’t with them at the moment, they had their own jobs to do after all) boring into his skull.

His boys offered to supply him with their own negativity. He refused.

...No, he wasn’t going soft, and _no,_ he did not care for them. He knew that feeding their own negativity would harm their goals rather than help ( _to this day they’re finding splinters stuck in the ceiling from one of Dust’s episodes_ ), and he needed them to be functioning at maximum capacity. So when they exchanged looks with each other, mentioning a call to one of the two not present in the room, he’d sat up and barked at them to finish their assignments.

_“Boss-” Killer started before Nightmare cut him off._

**_“Think very carefully about what you’re going to say to me, Killer.”_ **

_Killer paused. Frowned. “...nothing, Boss. we’ll get back to our posts.”_

_Nightmare watched as the trio filed out of the room, Horror mumbling about cooking lunch as he tugged at his dead socket. Dust gave Killer a pat on the shoulder, exchanging a few quiet words with him before moving to tug on Horror’s arm._

_The corrupted skeleton only relaxed once they were well out of sight, sagging back onto the cot with a weary sigh. He already surmised what the issue was; now, it was just a matter of resolving it._

He tried. Stars above, if there’s one thing he can honestly say, it’s that he _tried._ He even went to some of the more obscure AUs once he felt pressured enough (he wasn’t _worried,_ he wasn’t _stressed;_ this was but a mild concern for him, _a mere setback_ ). He was thankful for the silence leaving his phone behind brought, because he was sure that at least one of them had stumbled upon the empty infirmary and contacted the others to call him, to talk him out of it.

Unfortunately, with each AU he went to, they were waiting for him.

Time and time again, he went in search of negativity; time and time again, he was confronted. It was at an Outertale AU when he began to falter. The damn painter had restricted him just enough for his brother to get a few good shots in (a particularly lucky one cracking a rib), their third companion summoning Gaster Blasters to make sure he didn’t just break through his confines. The arrows of light pierced through three of his tentacles, the fourth disintegrating under the force of a Gaster Blaster.  
  
He scowled. His brother was really pulling out all the stops this time, wasn’t he? _What was wrong with his plans to get more negativity to sustain himself?_ _Didn’t_ ** _he_** _of all people understand the importance of balance in the universe?_

~~_Why do I have to pay the price for the way I was created?_ ~~

He would laugh if his life wasn’t in danger.

 **_“You’ll pay for interfering, brother.”_ ** _He had hissed, trying and failing to manifest more tentacles. He was running low on magic, and with his diminished energy from the lack of negative emotions, he was barely able to cling onto consciousness._

_His brother actually lowered his bow. Sadness reflected in those golden orbs back at him, and while he would’ve relished in the emotion he felt repulsed. “Nightmare...we can talk about this. You don’t have to-”_

_\- But Nightmare was hearing none of it, stumbling backwards as his eyelight flashed. It glowed erratically, wild and_ ~~_desperate_ _afraid_~~ _calculating._ **_“_ ** **You** **_of all people don’t get a say in what I should and shouldn’t do. You lost that right a long time ago, r e m e m b e r ? ”_ **

_His brother flinched as if slapped, expression hurt. His “friends” took a protective step in their direction, weapons at the ready, and Nightmare knew he had to make his move. He had enough magic for a shortcut; Dust was going to complain about the mess his marrow would leave behind when he landed, but when compared with the possibility of his corrupted jacket being thrown at their feet when they encountered his brother and his allies next, he instantly took the lesser of the two evils._

_In one last gambit he sank into the ground, teleporting-_

...Which is how he ended up _here,_ of all places.

He drops to the forest floor with a _thud,_ frightening a few squirrels and deer into making themselves scarce. Everything is on fire, everything _hurts,_ and it’s taking all of his willpower to stay awake.

He doesn’t know how long he lays there. It’s certainly long enough to have him curl into a ball, wrapping his arms around himself like it’ll keep his flickering SOUL from escaping. **_Pathetic,_ ** he thinks. _**What a pathetic state I’ve been reduced to.** _ He’s _Nightmare,_ the God of Negativity: he wasn’t...he _isn’t_ supposed to be this weak! The pain worsens, cutting off his thoughts, and it gets to the point that he lets out a pained wheeze every other minute.

Through the haze of pain, he thinks about his crew. **_What are those numbskulls up to this time?_ ** They most definitely found his phone by now, and the idiots would panic. Horror would cook the rest of their food and eat it, Dust would start murmuring to himself and twitch every so often, and Killer would pace back and forth while fiddling with his knife. They’d end up killing each other on accident, especially since the other two aren’t there.

He closes his eyes, releasing a tight sigh that devolves into a coughing fit. It’d be a while before they find him due to his low energy output, and by then it’ll be too late, which means…

**_Ah...so this is it._ **

Well, it could be worse. He could’ve dusted in front of the others, seeing their horrified eyes before it all faded to black. Now that he thinks about it, being alone like this is a blessing...though it stings that he botched his last shortcut.

( ~~He can’t bear to see grief mar their faces because that means they’re worried about him, that they~~ ~~_care,_ ~~ ~~and caring is a weakness that would be exploited by that stupidly soft brother of his.~~ )

Footsteps. Nightmare can’t even open his eyes at this point, much less conjure enough magic to attack the enemy. Is it Dream’s team of do-gooders, come to finish him off? Or is it some unknown entity from this random universe, ready to put him out of his misery?

He’s yanked out of his thoughts when his breathing stutters, turning into a painful wheeze. Arms encircle him, lifting him up and onto the back of something warm. 

Despite every fibre of his being screaming otherwise, he lets himself slump over. He can feel their SOUL, _a human SOUL,_ give off steady but soft beats; if he has to guess, it’s probably responding to his weakened state and reassuring him that it will be fine. _Hang in there for me,_ the human SOUL gently asks. _We’re almost there. You’re doing great; keep holding on._

It should disgust him. It _does_ disgust him. But he must be more worn-out than he initially thought, because he catches himself thinking that he can afford to let his guard down. He doesn’t know what color the human’s SOUL is, but the constant reassurances and the warmth seeping into his bones offers one possible answer.

(Besides, he doesn’t have much longer left to live. He can feel his hold on his physical body slipping away, numb as he watches his oily exterior incessantly drip onto the gravel. What does it matter, being carried by a human? There’s certainly some irony here, what with a _human_ helping him on his deathbed, but he is alone so no one has to witness his pitiful state.)

A jingle of keys interrupts his muddied thoughts. If he had enough energy to focus, then he’d hear erratic breathing coming from the shaken human carrying him. Eventually there’s a _creak,_ and they’re moving again, but this time the movement is short as he’s ( **_gently,_ ** he thinks bitterly) placed onto something soft but firm.

Rapid footsteps move away from him, and he unwinds just a bit. He can’t open his eyes, but the warmth of the room is pulling at his already weak senses, beckoning him into a dreamless sleep.

He refuses.

“-ome monster food for you,” he hears the human say as they draw closer. He wishes he has enough energy to summon at least one tentacle to skewer them with. _Stars_ above knows he’s had his fill of humans to last numerous lifetimes. “It’s some Nice Cream. No one can say no to Nice Cream, right?”

He faintly wonders how much energy it would take to tell the human to shut up. He quickly deduces that it’ll be too much, seeing as he can’t even open his eye socket. 

So there he lays, helpless and dying and being moved around like some fragile doll by a human, who presses something cold and sweet to his mouth and- **_ohhh that feels simply divine. I may have to keep the human around in case they have more._ **

While the coldness of the treat is a welcome distraction from his current predicament, the flare-up of pain that sears his SOUL has him just barely being able to choke back a cry. Even though the human makes no move indicating they heard his distress, their SOUL begins to beat rapidly with worry. _Not yet. It’s not your time. You can’t die just yet-!_

He doesn’t hear the audible words the human speaks, a cough wrenching itself out of his body. It sounds wet. **_Disgusting. Pitiful. Even if I’ve made peace with my demise, acting like a whimpering little brat in my final moments, not to mention while in the presence of a human, is something I refuse to be._ ** Unfortunately, his body conspires against him; the pain from before flares once more, this time overriding his senses completely as he curls into a ball. He won’t admit to shivering as a few more coughs leave him because he’s _Nightmare,_ the King of Darkness and a God in his own right.

A wet substance drips past his permafrown, landing on the couch beneath him. He has a guess as to what it can be, but with his SOUL tearing itself apart, he can’t afford to care.

Something distantly clatters to the floor as warmth envelops his hand. His first reaction is to recoil but the human SOUL is quiet in its reassurances, which pushes past the pain to reach his own SOUL. As a result he merely manages to stiffen, though making no move to pull away.

This human…

Are they really going out of their way to aid him, even as he begins to dust?

\- Then he feels it.

His SOUL stops its rampage as it feeds, hungrily absorbing the nearby negativity. The sudden burst of energy after having next to none for weeks has his eye socket opening, sitting up slightly as he hones in on the human.

**“...More…”**

The human jerks back on instinct, but he keeps a hold on their hand to make them stay in place. His senses are starting to come back to him, and he only needs a bit more until he can move around.

Their gaze meets his. He doesn’t blink, even when his voice refuses to increase in volume.

 **“Your grief...I need** **_more.”_ **

* * *

And, somehow, it’s come to this.

Nightmare stares at your slumbering form, your chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm. The TV chatters in the background, the seventh episode of Undernovela beginning. He surmises you had fallen asleep around the third or fourth episode, because when he looked away from the screen to send another barb your way he saw you resting your head on the arm of the couch, eyes closed and deep breaths coming in and out.

He flexes his hand. Some magic sparks at his fingertips, no doubt being restored due to the INTENT in your food. In a flash he summons a tentacle, which becomes razor-sharp as it points to where your SOUL resides.

He scowls at you. **“You’re stupidly naive, falling asleep in my presence.”**

Like they feel safe around him. Like they can let their guard down around him.

And sure enough, here you are, continuing to sleep the night away in blissful ignorance to the danger you ~~saved~~ aided in your home. The corners of your lips quirk up in your sleep, your SOUL shining a bit brighter in relief at seeing Nightmare’s SOUL on the road to recovery.

His scowl deepens.

**_Yes, stupidly naive._ **

He gets ready to deal the finishing blow when his mind falters, flashing images of the previous hours spent with you in betrayal. How you gave a smile of joy once you heard him speak. How you discreetly scrubbed at the remaining tears on your face when you thought he wasn’t looking. How you served him dinner with the INTENT to help, to heal, not knowing how much his SOUL repaired despite the initial rejection of positive feelings.

How you talked to him as if he was a normal, everyday monster, going so far as to compliment his _name_ and even throw puns at him.

Nightmare’s glare hardens before giving way completely, the tentacle dissipating as he rubs a hand down his face with a sigh.

**_They’re stupidly naive, and I’m the fool who is going to let them live on a mere whim._ **

He’ll keep you around until he makes a full recovery. Then, he’ll let you live to return the favor of preserving his life (he won’t say _saved_ because he _wasn’t_ saved, he was merely repaired).

He briefly thinks of a time long-forgotten, of a tree glistening with golden and obsidian orbs and a radiant smile shot his way.

His scowl lessens into something softer, his hand reaching over to turn the TV volume down.

He really hates owing anyone any favors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare: *About to kill Reader*
> 
> Nightmare: *Thinks back on everything you've done for him*
> 
> Nightmare: What is this? Feelings? Disgusting.
> 
> Nightmare:
> 
> Nightmare: I'll keep them around. For healing purposes, most definitely.
> 
> Again, thank you all for your patience! Chapter 4 will be out in a couple of days, so until next time!


	4. Quiet Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake up and make breakfast. Nightmare's acting a bit strange, but you take it in stride. After all, a little KINDness goes a long way, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you for all of your support on this story! And to those who have sent me comments, I'll get to them once this chapter goes up! I've read all of them, and all of your replies never fail to make me smile.
> 
> Without further ado, Chapter 4!

The next time you come to, the TV’s off and there’s a crick in your neck. A mild panic overtakes you as you think you’ve slept past your alarm, which quickly fades as you remember the date:

Saturday.

“Ah, right…” you groan out as you stretch your arms overhead. You smile once you hear a satisfying _pop,_ the slight tension in your shoulders disappearing. “Got the day off of work.”

You look to your left to see the other side of the couch empty. Had you imagined the entire encounter with the strange monster? It seemed real enough, yet after a quick glance around you find no trace of the other anywhere.

 _Well, one way to find out._ You stand with a flourish, energy already coursing through you despite it being 7am. Padding into the kitchen and opening the fridge reveals the leftover ziti stored inside, and you debate taking some out to eat for breakfast.

You shrug, a hand reaching in to grab the edge of the dish. It’s not like anyone’s around to judge you; your property line is pretty far out, and town is a bit of a drive away. _No one needs to know about this, and besides; cheese this early in the morning sounds heavenl-_

 **“You better not be thinking of eating** **_that_ ** **as your first meal of the day.”**

You like to think that you don’t jump as you turn to face Nightmare. You _don’t._ Though, you’re glad to see that your encounter with him isn’t another one of your weird dreams. Your hand retracts from the fridge as if burned, your other rubbing the back of your neck as you grin sheepishly.

“...Would it help if I told you I _wasn’t_ going to do that?”

The skeleton gives you a look void of mirth, his voice dry. **“Very little.”**

You shut the fridge door with little fanfare, holding a finger up. “Well, since you’re up and about...what would you like for breakfast?”

Nightmare blinks, not expecting the question. You, feeling a bit childish after just waking up, blink back. He scowls, and you beam. _It’s pretty fun to talk to him. Or am I just happy to have some company out here?_ **“I do not need to eat as often as you do, human. Dinner will suffice.”**

“Nonsense!” You butt in gently, waving him over. “Y’know what they say: “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day”! It determines your mood and how the rest of the day will go.”

He snorts derisively, but you notice him take a step further into the kitchen. **“And if I refuse?”**

You smile. “Refusal is not an option.”

His teal eyelight flashes at that, and for a second you think you’ve messed up. A tense moment descends the kitchen, dispelling once he shakes his head. He takes a seat at the table, resting his skull on his hand as he eyes you with suspicion. **“Do what you like, human.”**

Taking that as your cue to get started, you think back to the previous night. He didn’t give any opinion on the ziti, but he had practically torn through multiple Nice Cream bars.

An idea pops into your head.

“Alright, this may take about half an hour. You can go watch TV or explore outside, if you’d like.” Even though he doesn’t seem like the type to explore. Maybe he likes reading? “Even though a good portion of my bookshelf is manga, there’s some literary works on there.”

...Which you bought _because_ of manga, _but_ _he doesn’t need to know that._ Nightmare makes a noise to show that he heard you, but doesn’t get up. You shrug, thinking that he’ll wander off as you’re making breakfast, only to startle when you hear him speak.

**“What disgusting human food are you making this time?”**

Should you feel insulted that he degraded your cooking? Yes. Do you? No. Instead you give a short laugh, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “It’s gonna be a surprise. ‘sides, you’ll figure it out before it’s done.”

He doesn’t respond, and you hear a _creak_ behind you as he leans back in his chair. It’s only when you’re mixing batter in a bowl that the fact that he seems better enough to walk around a bit hits you.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” You say over your shoulder, certain that he’s still in his chair.

Silence. Your certainty wanes the longer you don’t get a response, the grin on your lips slowly disappearing. You pour some batter into the waffle maker, placing the bowl back down and grabbing your phone to turn on some music. Had you overstepped your bounds somehow? Did you inadvertently say something to anger him? You weren’t about to kiss his feet if that was the case, but you feel a bit bad that you potentially ruined a chance to be his friend.

Yes, friendship. It’s been a while since you’ve freely bantered with someone, the last person having di-

**“...Likewise.”**

_-Say what now._

To be honest, with how long he took to respond to you, you were expecting some form of insult; something along the lines of **_“Can’t wait to kick me out, human?”_ ** or **_“Heh. You are a strange but bad liar”_ **. Needless to say, this odd reply takes you by surprise.

You turn to face him. He’s staring at your table with the weirdest expression yet, and you can honestly say that he looks like he’s going to murder the poor piece of furniture.

“Uh, sorry, what?”

He shifts his glare from the wood to you. **“I believe your ears work perfectly fine. I do not need to repeat myself twice for the likes of you.”**

You blink. Was he...getting defensive? About _that?_ Deciding to spare him of further ridicule you turn back to your waffle maker, checking the time on your phone. Good, you have about ten minutes to go.

Surprisingly the rest of the time spent making waffles is spent in silence, save for the quiet music playing from your phone. Soon a heavenly aroma fills the air as you gently pluck yet another waffle from the maker onto the spare plate you set out earlier, the total on the plate marking three.

You slide around the kitchen in your fuzzy socks, skidding to a stop in front of the fridge and pulling it open. Your hands push past the ziti to grab at the butter and syrup, placing them on the table near Nightmare before returning to grab a carton of strawberries and a carton of blueberries. You’re glad you saved enough for this occasion; even though you scarcely eat fruit, the two you always seem to receive from the town’s monster residents are blueberries and strawberries. The reason? _“Your SOUL always brightens when your eyes land on them. Consider it a gift for being such a KINDhearted human.”_

“This is the best part of breakfast, I say.” You declare, placing the fruits near the skeleton as well. A teal eyelight stares at you, unamused but the slightest bit intrigued. “Customizing your own meal is a part of trial and error, but once you get it right it’s one of the best feelings in the world.”

He snorts. **“I fail to see what is so special about food. It is a means of replenishing energy and nothing more.”**

You hum. “I’m not so sure about that, Nightmare.”

His visible eye socket narrows. For a moment you get the feeling he wants nothing more than to kill you for disagreeing, and yet- **“Explain.”**

You look behind you. Sure enough, you hadn’t put another waffle in yet. _Good._ “Do you mind if I take a waffle from your plate to eat?”

He eyes you with suspicion, phalanges twitching a bit as they subtly pull the plate closer to him. You raise your hands in a placating manner, a grin stretching across your face as his permafrown deepens at his own actions. “I’m making more, promise. I don’t think I can show you in any other way.”

He looks off to the side in thought, his frown lessening. Then, finally, he gives a terse nod and hands one over. **“This butter not be a trick.”**

Your grin widens even more if possible, a twinkle of amusement shining in your eyes. “That was a _sweet_ pun if I’ve ever heard one. _Berry_ good, at least by my standards.”

His eye socket widens in horror at his own words. At this point, you’re trying your damn best to not laugh at the stricken expression on his face. **“...We don’t talk about this, human. And stop making those terrible puns already.”**

You’re pretty sure he made that threat last night too, but for the first time in a long time you’re on a roll. There’s no stopping you now. “Why? _Waffle_ you do if I make more?”

He slams his skull onto the table, a string of curses leaving him with a hiss. He _actually_ slams his skull. You snicker, barely being able to hold back your laughter. Even though his appearance screams “edgy”, you find it fun to tease him; if you can get him to make more accidental puns, then all the better.

He raises his head with a scowl at the sound. **_“What.”_ **

That word, that one simple word, is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Laughter spills out of your mouth, every inhale sounding like a fight for more breath before you dissolve into chuckles all over again. All Nightmare does is sit and scowl at you, even as you take a few wobbly steps to retrieve a plate from your cupboard before returning to him. At this point you’re silently wheezing, shoulders shaking as you place the waffle on the dish.

 **“Laugh it up.”** He says, voice dry, but there’s no real heat behind it. You don’t notice, however, too busy recovering from your sudden laugh attack.

“I-I,” you struggle to say in-between snickers, “I see that’s the last _straw_ for you, and that the next pun will have you _berry_ -ing me six feet under.”

He gives you a look filled with so much disdain that you can’t help but laugh all over again. You know he’s going over the many different ways to kill you, there’s _no way_ he isn’t. You hold your next _batch_ of puns in, grabbing the butter and spreading it over your waffle. Next you pick up the syrup bottle and drizzle some on, placing a strawberry on top for the finishing touch.

You give silent jazz hands as you present the plate to Nightmare. His gaze is dispassionate, teal eyelight dimming in slight irritation. **“What exactly am I supposed to be looking at, human?”**

“It’s my twist on breakfast.” You respond easily, picking up a fork and cutting a bite-sized portion off. “I like my waffles buttery with just enough syrup to cover half of it and a strawberry on top. The flavors mix together well, considering the syrup is sweet enough to counteract the normal tartness of strawberries without sugar.”

He stares as you take a bite, uncaring how some syrup hangs on the corner of your mouth. You give a satisfied hum after you finish chewing, sending him a small but patient smile. “Everyone’s palette is different. I know some monsters in town who like to drown their meals in hot sauce, and some who can’t live without putting whipped cream on every food they try. It’s a nice journey to find out what you like based on your other preferences, isn’t it?”

He directs his stare towards the other items on the table, his face contemplative. You continue in-between bites, making sure not to waste even a drop of syrup. “It can really make a person feel accomplished. Besides, food gives you comfort and joy- at least, if you know what you like. You know how some people say to eat a tub of ice cream and watch TV if you’re having a mental breakdown? It’s ‘cause your brain automatically views desserts as a reward, activating that “reward system” in there and releasing dopamine.”

His phalanges tap on the table as he absorbs your words. **“And** **_this_ ** **is why you view food as special?”**

You shrug, beginning to pick at your plate. The waffle has long since been consumed, and your voice is soft. “Dunno. To tell the truth, the answer to that varies from person to person. _Personally_ though - heh, sorry, that was in poor _taste-_ Okay, okay, I’ll stop! - it’s the experience. Someone very close to me taught me to cook waffles, and we’d occasionally bake together as well. Food isn’t great just ‘cause it’s food: food is great ‘cause it brings people, monsters, _beings_ together.”

Nightmare remains silent. You pick up your plate and set it to the side, making your way back to the waffle maker. A weird sort of quiet descends the room this time, though you find yourself okay with it; you understand that it takes time to process things, especially with how heavy that conversation got for you.

You hear a _pop,_ but don’t turn to look _._ Behind you, Nightmare drowns his waffles with butter and syrup before putting four blueberries on top.

* * *

“C’mon, c’mon, _c’monnn-”_

Nightmare grins as he places a final card onto the table. His look is downright smug, one leg resting on top of the other as his eyelight glows in triumph.

**“Out. I win.”**

“NOOOOO!!!” You wail dramatically, your cards scattering everywhere as you throw your hands into the air. This has to be the seventh time you lost against the other in Uno, and at this point you’re regretting ever showing him the card game.

His smirk widens at your defeated form. **“You seem to be having trouble there, human.”**

There it is again. _Human._ Something had changed all those weeks ago (it was only three, but three weeks is nearly a month so it counts as a lot of weeks for you) when you cooked him breakfast for the first time, evident by the way he asked for your name once you sat down again to eat. You easily gave it, but so far he hasn’t used it. Not even once. In fact, knowing it prompts him to call you Human even more. (It makes you wonder if it’s payback for all the puns you put him through, but then you remember that he absolutely _loves_ your puns, _so that can’t_ **_possibly_ ** _be it._ )

The next question after that was if you had been feeling well-rested, to which you answered yes. He gave a strange face at that one, demanding to know if you even remembered your dreams. Needless to say, you left him thoroughly stunned when all you did was shrug and gave him a simple “I forget my dreams” as an answer.

But that was then, and this is now. You give him an unintelligible groan, slumping over on the armrest of your couch. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He gives you a knowing look, the smirk never fading. **“Oh? Then perhaps you’d like to go another round?”**

“Yeeeep, throwing the towel in.” You say suddenly, hearing his low chuckle of amusement in response. “Y’know. Work an’ all. No rest for the wicked, or however that goes.”

Nightmare stands, collecting the cards on the table. **“Pick up the ones on the floor. Or would you like to be called a slob as well?”**

“Hey!” You cry indignantly, already rolling off the couch (and narrowly missing hitting your head on the coffee table) to collect your scattered hand. “I may be fine with being called a loser, or lazy, but I draw the line at slob!”

 **“Is this really where your priorities lie, human?”** He asks with a little humor in his voice, clueing you in on the fact your playful grin hasn’t gone unnoticed by him. (One day you’ll get him to outright laugh at your antics. Baby steps, though; _baby steps._ ) **“I can’t say I’m surprised.”**

You stand up and hand him the rest of the cards, making a show of brushing yourself off. “Yeah, well, my priority right now is checking up on you. How do you feel?”

The skeleton blinks, as if not expecting your answer. **“Near-perfect. I estimate four more days until I am at my prime.”**

You give him a smile. “Happy to hear it. Speaking of feeling, go rest up; it’s late enough. I’m gonna use the telescope out back to look at the stars again.”

Nightmare narrows his eye socket, wrapping a rubber band around the deck of cards with little difficulty. **“I won’t find you sleeping next to it outside again.”**

It’s not even a question. You rub the back of your neck sheepishly. “I can’t promise anything, but I can give you my word that I’ll do my best not to.”

He gives you a grunt of what you’ve come to know as approval, placing the deck on the coffee table before reaching for the remote and turning on the TV. You hear Undernovela (seriously, _how the fuck is he watching a show you’ve never heard of with such ease_ ) begin to play before you step out back, the screen door gently shutting behind you and muting the sound.

You look up. Tonight is a cloudless night so you can see billions upon trillions of tiny twinkling lights in the sky, giving you the feeling that a colossal galactic blanket is enveloping the world. At this point all thoughts of the telescope are forgotten, not when you can see the view this clearly.

You look back on the previous weeks leading up to this point. You’re still learning what ticks for Nightmare and what he enjoys, but there’s no rush in that; you’re sure that he’ll visit you even when everything’s said and done, because he’s said it once himself:

**_“This place has a strange effect. Instead of pushing beings like myself away, it draws them in.”_ **

_Now that I think about it, I think I called him a dork for that one._ You smile once you hear him cackle at the TV, no doubt at something stupid the protagonist did. _I’m glad he’s enjoying himself, though. I don’t want him to be uncomfortable, nor to have any regrets when he has to leave._

“i found you.”

The sudden voice makes you freeze. No crickets are chirping. The grass beside you is dying. On nights like this-

“hey, is that any way to greet a new pal? c’mon, buddy: **t u r n a r o u n d a n d s h a k e m y h a n d.”**

...humans like you should’ve stayed inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nightmare: I don't like this huma-
> 
> Reader: Food? FOOD? FOOD. FOOD!
> 
> Nightmare:
> 
> Nightmare: You know what, the human actually isn't half bad-
> 
> Who is it that appeared? Is fluff turning into angst again? Is Reader in trouble? Most will be answered in the next chapter! I hope you all enjoyed, and until next time!


	5. Cloaked Menace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new skeleton cuts into your life, literally. Nightmare is not pleased. Late night conversations ensue, and the word friend gets thrown around a lot despite it never being verbalized. 
> 
> Things are more broken than they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter stumped me for the longest time. I knew exactly how I wanted this to play out, and yet actually typing it was a whole different story. Despite a few things, I'm really happy how this chapter turned out!
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and without further ado, Chapter Five!

**“t u r n a r o u n d a n d s h a k e m y h a n d.”**

Alarm bells are ringing _pretty-fucking-merrily_ in your mind, which is probably why you live to see another day. Instinct screams at you to dive to the side, a telltale _whoosh_ coming down on the spot you previously occupied seconds later. When you glance back you see a cloaked skeleton rip a scythe out of the ground, clumps of dirt and grass flying in every direction as he gives you an eerie grin.

You don’t scream. You don’t laugh. No thoughts are running through your mind. How can they? They’d only slow you down. You’ll come back to this moment once you’re safe.

You have one objective at the moment: _Live._

You take a sharp breath in as the stranger whirls on you, dropping to a crouch when he takes a horizontal swing at you. It seems more like he’s testing the waters with you even though his animosity is off-the-charts, a small chuckle escaping him as you just barely avoid his weapon.

“not bad, human. c’mon; let’s have some more _fun.”_

You dive to the side as the ground breaks, his grin widening as more chunks of earth become airborne, and from there it’s rinse and repeat. He attacks. You evade. He attacks again. You avoid it. You make no move to harm him, and even if you wanted to you wouldn’t be able with him constantly being on the offense. 

Your game of cat and mouse goes on for what seems like eternity, with you dodging and him alternating between swinging his weapon and trying to grab you. You’re not sure why, but you fear his touch more than his scythe; something deep within you tells you to avoid it at all costs, or else the injuries you’ve gained from dodging will be the last of your worries . 

Suddenly, he stops. You get to your feet from your most recent tumble, not bothering to talk. You’re hyper-focused on surviving, and talking at the moment would only dispel your focus.

It doesn’t stop him from talking, however. “you’re not trying to attack? why is that? could it be-” You tense as he peers at you intensely. You get the feeling you’re being inspected, put under a microscope to be observed. “...interesting. i may have to start getting serious.”

_...What?_

He shifts his grip, and in an instant the scythe is coming too fast for you to comprehend-

**“What the hell is going on out here?”**

-and suddenly a black tentacle latches onto the shaft, careful to avoid the assailant’s skeletal hands as it flings the weapon off to the side with little difficulty. The cloaked skeleton looks just as startled as you feel before something firm lands on your head.

 **“Get** **_down,_ ** **you idiotic human,”** Nightmare says as he pushes your head down to the ground, ignoring your words of protest, **“and stay there while I deal with our intruder.”**

You don’t think you’ve heard Nightmare swear before this, but you’ve certainly seen him look as tense as he does now.

The unknown skeleton whistles. “never pegged you to be the type to protect a human, Nightmare.”

 **“Shut up.”** Your ~~friend~~ ally commands. To your surprise the other skeleton complies, though there’s a mischievous tilt to the edge of his permagrin. Do they know each other? **“They are nothing but prey. State your business here, Reaper.”**

The cloaked skeleton - _Reaper,_ you correct yourself as your cheek is kissing the blissfully still-alive grass - blinks. It looks weird since the skeleton has no eyelights, unnerving, and you suppress a shiver from the near-oppressive power his presence alone brings. “what, did you think no one would look for you? Error’s with the others, searching some AUs. looks like i’m the lucky one. though...”

He turns his gaze to you, and you freeze. Nightmare himself doesn’t make any moves, though the tentacles (holy shit Nightmare has _tentacles_ like Doc Ock-) coming from his form twitch ever so slightly.

“what’s this about?” Reaper’s voice may sound cordial, but his grin sharpens. His scythe glints in the moonlight. “don’t tell me a human gained control over the infamous Nightmare, King of Darkness?”

Nightmare’s scowl turns into a sneer, his voice filled with disdain. **“As if a mere human could control my actions. It seems I overestimated that mind of yours, Reaper. Now, I will not ask again. State. Your. Business.”**

Hoo boy, Nightmare sounds _mad._ You rack your brain for a solution as Reaper laughs, the sound grating against your SOUL.

“that’s less of a question and more of a command, Night. anywho, i already told ya; we were searching for ya. time to go back.”

**“I am the one who decides whether or not I leave. Or did you forget?”**

_-You got it._

You offer your name before you can stop yourself. Both skeletons turn to look at you, Reaper’s remark dying away as his face slackens in shock.

“It’s my name,” you say, repeating it again. “Instead of human, I mean. It’s, uh- nice to meet you?”

Nightmare looks torn between being gobsmacked or running a hand down his skull in exasperation. Reaper blinks a few times before a chortle forces its way out of him, raising a phalange to wipe away an imaginary tear.

“Reaper. nice ta meetcha too, kid.”

He extends a hand out for you to take. You get up onto your elbows, fully prepared to stand up and grasp it now that the danger’s gone, only for Nightmare to unceremoniously shove you back down.

“Hey-!”

 **“This isn’t the time for your games.”** He hisses. Is it just you, or does he sound angrier than he did before? **“Do not touch him under any circumstances. Are we** **_clear,_ ** **human?”**

If the past few weeks have taught you anything, it’s that it’s better to not argue with him on this. With that in mind you shrug your shoulders against the ground, paying no mind to the discomfort the action causes you. “Yep. _Peachy.”_ You say as you flash your ~~friend~~ acquaintance the OK sign, your voice muffled by the dirt that’s trying to shove its way into your mouth.

Reaper walks to the side to pick up his discarded weapon. He taps the butt of his scythe against the ground once, and you watch in amazement as it vanishes from view. “so? ya gonna explain what all this is, Night?”

Nightmare scowls. A tentacle wraps around your midsection and yanks you into the air. **“Get inside.”**

You have more than _just a_ **_few_ ** _questions_ swimming in your mind right now, the most important having to do with Nightmare’s new set of appendages, but for the sake of your remaining calm you file it away for later. Nightmare’s not stupid; he’ll be expecting your questions.

“Do you need me to leave?”

Reaper, who is trailing behind the two of you with a thoughtful expression on his skull, actually stops and stares at you in what you can only assume is bewilderment. The expression only increases when he hears Nightmare’s response, his tone casual as if he was talking about the weather. **“No. This is something you have to hear, otherwise you’ll just pester me about it.”**

You have the nerve to give your disgruntled companion a cheeky grin. “Guilty.”

Nightmare deposits you onto the couch with no remorse. You chuckle, shifting to sit up and patting the space beside you.

“May as well take a seat, then.”

 **“I will be standing.”** Nightmare says dismissively, but you know better. He’s doing what he always does when something new enters the little routine you’ve made over the weeks; subtle tensing of the shoulders, feet shifting ever so slightly apart, and the one visible eyelight flashing once, twice before subsiding.

 _Well you win some, you lose some._ You at least have to do _something_ to rid the atmosphere of the weird tension, anyhow. You motion to Reaper, patting the seat beside you. “You can take a seat too, if you want.”

The cloaked skeleton looks like he’s going to refuse, but something catches his eye and his permagrin stretches. You blink, your curiosity only increasing once you see Nightmare’s eye socket narrow. You know that any sane person would regret the offer to have someone who could hurt you with just a touch sit nearby, but for some reason you can’t bring yourself to; you chalk it up to your uncanny ability to go with the flow.

Reaper’s voice brings you out of your thoughts, the skeleton crossing his arms as his tone becomes teasing. “y’know, i think i will.”

**“You will n-”**

“ _c’mon,_ Night,” the other waves him off, shuffling over to drop down next to you, “the nice human offered an’ everything. _oil_ you need is to have an open mind.”

Nightmare blanches. Reaper’s grin widens.

You’re struck with a feeling of deja vu.

“It’s alright, Nightmare.” You begin as you lean back into the couch, catching their attention. Oh, you know _exactly_ what you’re going to do. Is it a good idea? No, _never,_ but Nightmare has yet to carry out his death threats against you and you all need an icebreaker. In your defense, you see no other option. “Reaper’s not gonna do anything. Besides, it’s my house; no need to be _tenta-cruel_ to him.”

A strangled snort leaves the monster sitting beside you. You’re pretty sure you hear Nightmare mutter **“Oh my** **_stars_ ** **they’ve multiplied”** , but you can’t be too sure. “heh. watch out, Nighty; might start getting attached myself.”

 **“I am not “attached”, as you said. I told you; this human is my prey, and it would be wise to back off.”** He hisses as his tentacles go rigid, poised in the air for a strike. In all honesty your companion looks nearly as intimidating as he did when you first met- well, when he was coherent. Not that you’d say it out loud, of course; Nightmare would rather force himself to undergo torture than to talk about that night. **“Do you understand, Reaper? And cease the infernal names already.”**

Reaper gives a lazy salute. “dunno if i’ll follow the first one, but the second’s fair game. read ya loud and clear, Boss.”

If you weren’t watching the two interact, then you would’ve missed the way Nightmare’s skull flashed with something - vulnerable? Is that it? You’re not sure - before his permafrown harshens. **“What did I just say? No.** **_Names._ ** **Now, onto business.”**

Nightmare _does_ end up telling him what happened and left nothing out, to your surprise. Some names are unfamiliar, such as Ink, Blue, and Dream, but dark recognition crosses Reaper’s skull as he grips his cloak. You, of course, snicker when he reaches your dinner interaction, only for it to fade into a cheerful grin as you reminisce about each further event he covers. The breakfast the next morning. Showing him around the house. Finding spare clothes for him to wear in town after getting his measurements. Him taking his first wander around your property (while you were watching, at least. Who knows if he had done it beforehand?), eyeing you with disdain once you caught him inspecting a chrysanthemum with conflicting emotions. Asking about Undernovela and getting a full day’s worth of lessons on the show, complete with quizzes and surprise questions about the most obscure fact. Learning Spanish, to that extent.

Him telling you what he wanted to eat.

...Though it was usually more of a demand than a request. Now that you think about it, he never asks for things; the closest he gets is stating it without any malice in his voice. You shake your head fondly, tuning back in to hear him go over how you showed him the different planets in the sky even though he knew all of them. 

_(You don’t say it out loud, but you think it was nice of him to listen to you make up stories about each star, planet, and constellation you found. He didn’t have to sit through two hours’ worth of it, but you suppose it’s his way of paying you back for the Undernovela Lesson.)_

Reaper turns his skull from Nightmare to you, and you suppress a shudder at the lack of eyelights. You didn’t expect it to bother you as much as it has, but it might be due to nearly dying by his hand. 

He leans towards you, phalanges tapping against his knee as he hums. “quite the story you got. and to think you’d meet like this…”

He falls silent. You’re not sure what’s going on, but the way Nightmare goes rigid makes you perturbed.

 **“...** **_Reaper_ ** **.”**

-But Reaper waves him off again, leaning back. You let out a breath of relief, your hand rubbing your chest as you frown. _What just happened?_ “it ain’t nothin’ special, Boss; don’t worry ‘bout it.” 

The cloaked skeleton reaches for the remote on the coffee table, you and Nightmare watching as he turns on the TV. _Undernovela_ appears on the screen, and you raise a brow at him.

He shrugs once he sees your stare. “what? p sure this conversation’s over, anyhow.”

“...Right.” You say as you stand. Reaper looks over at you curiously as you pass Nightmare, heading into the kitchen.

“I’ll make something for us to eat before we rest. In the meantime, you two can have your real talk.”

Hopefully, they can resolve whatever tension is going on between them. You get a feeling that Reaper is more than just a mere intruder to Nightmare, so for his sake you removed yourself from the conversation.

You set your phone down onto the counter, plucking your wireless earbuds from your pocket and turning them on. Nightmare has always been the secretive type, and from what little you’ve seen of Reaper you assume he is as well; they don’t need some random person eavesdropping on their private conversation. 

Besides, you have a feeling it’s going to get personal fast. _Tensions are going to be flying, that’s for sure._ And what better way to close a discussion than with sweets?

* * *

It doesn’t take you long to disappear into the next room. Reaper gives a slow whistle, settling back into the couch. “got yourself a sharp human.”

 **“Nothing of the sort.”** Nightmare scowls, but Reaper notes that it doesn’t sound as harsh as he’s used to. **“I switched their cocoa brand two weeks ago to a horrendously bitter flavor. They have yet to note the change.”**

Reaper chuckles. “sounds like you’ve been havin’ fun here.”

An unnerving silence falls over them as Reaper’s sentence hangs in the air. The cloaked skeleton breaks it by throwing the remote onto the seat you previously sat in, his permagrin falling into a frown.

“why didn’t you come back, Night?”

 _we’re all worried sick._ He doesn’t need to say it, but Nightmare understands perfectly as his scowl deepens. His eye socket narrows, and-...does he actually look _nervous?_

 _No._ This is something else, he’s sure. **“I was dying, Reap. I took matters into my own hands.”**

“ _Matters into your-_ Nightmare, we’ve been searching for you for _weeks!”_ Reaper explodes, getting to his feet. Normally he wouldn’t lose his cool, but if he hadn’t found him _today_ then-

...How could he face the others? How could he tell them, _again,_ that he had found nothing? How could he sit by and watch as the light in their eye sockets faded just a little bit more, the fractures between them growing in the absence of their leader?

_How could he let them down, after all that’s happened?_

“Killer’s wearin’ holes into the floor with all the worryin’ he’s doin’. Horror’s just about eaten a three months’ worth stock of food in nearly a _month_ . Dust won’t _talk_ to us anymore, he’s as still as a statue some moments and moving stiffly the next, and C-” A pause. Reaper takes a pained breath in. “... _Error’s_ been spendin’ more time at the castle lately. he combs AUs for ya before destroying ‘em. you didn’t even leave us with anythin’, just an empty cot and a phone on the nightstand!”

Nightmare remains silent. Reaper pants after his mini speech, his hands having balled into fists. His next words come out in a low snarl, accusatory. “did ya _want_ us to find no trace of ya? did ya _want_ to be considered dead by those who ca-”

 **“Not another word, Reaper.”** Nightmare interrupts, his eyelight flashing. It seems he’s had enough of hearing him talk. **“Sentiments like those will do nothing but get you killed.”**

“oh, i’ll say _plenty_ o’ words!” Reaper counters, walking closer to his ~~boss companion~~ _friend_ before stopping a mere few feet away from him. “what is this, Underfell?! we _care,_ whether ya like it or not!”

Nightmare snarls, looking physically pained by the sentiment. **“Were you always this annoying, Reaper? This is exactly what I feared would happen; you got attached. Detrimental, for one who plays the role of the Grim Reaper.”**

He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t have to. No, not with Reaper, his ally and most trusted ~~_friend_ ~~ _-_...acquaintance. Reaper sags, all the bravado he’s shown that human before escaping and leaving a shell of a skeleton behind.

His voice comes out small. “...you’re one of the few i have left in my life. i can’t lose you too, Nightmare; not now.”

_it’s not your time._

A _clang_ comes from the kitchen, causing the both of them to whip towards the source. “Sorry!” You call out louder than you need to, sounding genuinely apologetic. Reaper glances over at Nightmare, who sighs and points to the side of his skull. _ah. earphones._ “Nearly dropped a pan onto the floor. If I startled you both, my bad!”

Nightmare walks past Reaper, sitting down on the couch. The thick tension from before has long since dissipated with the noise, settling into an uneasy quiet. **“Mind your business. Go back to your activity, human.”**

Reaper hears you chuckle, taking Nightmare’s off-putting words in stride. “Gotcha, gotcha. I’ll be done in around eight minutes, just a heads up.”

His friend grumbles a confirmation, shifting to get comfortable in his seat. Reaper remains standing, still reeling from the brief exchange between you and Nightmare.

Nightmare? Talking casually with a _human?_

_Just who_ **_are_ ** _you?_

\- No, that’s the wrong question to ask. There’s so much he has to say to you, so much he has to piece together, but if you were _here_ then-

**“Letting your guard down?”**

Reaper jolts at Nightmare’s voice, turning to face the skeleton. The tentacles behind the other monster twitch, a smirk slowly curling across his skull at catching him, and for a moment Reaper can imagine that everything is normal. That everything is _fine._

To his disappointment, the moment doesn't last. The smirk dissipates in a flash, a scowl replacing it. **“Your reaction to the human. What did you see?”**

Reaper wipes his startled look from his skull, his grin returning as he closes an eye socket. “dunno what you mean there, Night; gonna have to be more specific.”

**“You know exactly what I mean, Reaper. Cut the bullshit.”**

_whoops. guess Boss is really pissed this time, huh._ Instead he narrows his eye sockets in turn. “still dunno what you’re talkin’ about. if anythin’, _you_ owe _me_ an explanation. why this human?”

Nightmare doesn’t answer for a long time. His gaze travels to the side; Reaper waits. **“Something is...off, about this place. It draws beings like myself in...”** He turns to face Reaper, his lone eyelight muted.

 **“...and beings like** **_you_ ** **in.”**

Reaper lowers his stare to his phalanges, a cursory glance towards the kitchen confirming that you're busy pulling something out of the oven. Whatever it is, it smells like cinnamon. _good; the human’s occupied._ He quickly looks away, using a fraction of his magic to float over to Nightmare.

He flips upside down in front of him, a grin forming. “is that so?...”

 **“Yes. They are very casual to any being they come across; it’s...strange, considering how their species normally reacts.”** The goopy skeleton glowers as Reaper dangles a few phalanges in front of his face.

 **“If the consequences weren’t so dire I would smack you on the spot,”** Nightmare scowls. **“Back off.”**

“hm…” Reaper pretends to think about it, tapping a phalange against his chin. His grin widens, and dismay flashes across the other skeleton’s skull. “heheh, nope.”

 **“Why you-”** He dodges a lazy swat of one of Nightmare’s tentacles. The offending appendage moves slowly on purpose, cutting an obvious path through the air. **“You have somewhere to be, unless I’m mistaken.”**

He rolls in midair, the grin not once leaving his skull. “they can wait. believe me, this is _much_ more entertainin’.”

Nightmare grimaces, grabbing the discarded remote beside him. He turns up the volume, _Undernovela_ coming through the TV clearer. Reaper’s brow would raise if he had one, but he doesn’t, so instead he floats further off to the side to watch the show. **“I don’t need your assistance, nor your pity. Everything is taken care of.”**

Reaper glances over. Nightmare’s keeping his gaze on the screen, but the lack of annoyance in his tone gives him away. _he sounds tired,_ he thinks with a slight frown, _far more than he’d usually let on._ Nightmare is the type of skeleton to keep things close to the chest- er, _ribcage,_ refusing help until it becomes absolutely necessary. When they all found out he was dying, he closed himself off from the rest of their group too.

And Reaper let him.

He let him think that destroying himself while looking for a cure was the best option available to them. He let him think that he had to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He let him think that no one cared.

_He let him think that he was going to die alone._

Reaper’s frown lessens, his entire frame going still. Not anymore. He refuses to leave Nightmare’s side, considering what happened last time. He’ll contact the others in a couple of days; no one there would terribly miss him if he disappeared, anyways. He’s too different even for their standards, too broken. _yeah,_ _they’ll be fine._

Now, he just wants to spend time with an old friend.

He drifts closer to the goopy skeleton, sitting cross-legged. His words are quiet, and this time he’s the one blatantly avoiding the other’s stare of bewilderment.

“...you saved me once, Night. let me do the same for you.”

The look Nightmare gives him that night, with patches of dead grass lying outside and a chill on the usually warm breeze, is one that will keep him up on the best of nights and torment him relentlessly in his worst dreams.

**“Some things are forsaken for a reason, Reaper.”**

_huh._ He of all beings can’t argue with that. He hums to show he heard him, the two of them falling into silence while you bustle around in the next room.

Maybe they were both broken, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reaper: y o u w a n n a h a v e a b a d t i m e ?
> 
> Nightmare: *Appears*
> 
> Reaper: oh shit
> 
> Or, alternatively:
> 
> Reader: Oh this is stressful.
> 
> Reader: *Proceeds to bake every sweet thing they can think of*
> 
> Finally, Chapter 5 is completed! What's Reaper's deal? What exactly ran through his mind to speak cordially to you? Will you survive an encounter with him if backed into a corner? Will Nightmare return? How much are they going to tell you?
> 
> Unfortunately, none save for one of these questions are getting answered in the next chapter. I also finally have a tumblr up for my Undertale works! It's @wheresleepingboneslie , and there you can ask about the plot of each story, any of the characters, and who knows? Maybe I'll hint at what I have in mind...
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Nightmare: *actively dying*
> 
> Reader, smooshing their own face with their hands: WHAT ARE YOU?! ...An idiot sandwich
> 
> Next chapter will be reader's first interactions with one hurt, salty boi. Nightmare, a tsun? Noooo, that title belongs to Error


End file.
